c. 2005 Religion News Service
MIDDLEBURG HEIGHTS, Ohio _ The success and qualities of Grace Church in this suburb southwest of Cleveland convinced evangelical consultant and author Thom Rainer that it is one of America’s most flourishing Protestant churches.
He described Grace and others in a new book, “Breakout Churches” (Zondervan), in which he examines what makes them work and how they have distinguished themselves from the common run of evangelical congregations.
Rainer’s model institutions, from Virginia to California, all have redefined themselves, then grown in attendance, membership, fervor and outreach.
Church growth is significant at a time when Rainer’s research indicates that eight out of 10 American churches are barely maintaining or are declining in their attendance. It was the other 20 percent that he closely examined.
“Yes, a kind of fervor is definitely present in these churches,” Rainer, the author of 14 books, said in an interview. “And they grow by extending that to the unconverted community, bringing them into the fold.”
Rainer, who wrote the book while dean of the Billy Graham School of Missions, Evangelism and Church Growth at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky., will start next month (October) as president of Lifeway Christian Resources, the Southern Baptists’ publishing arm.
Rainer was quick to point out, though, that ministers at these institutions seldom are raucous types who preach hellfire and brimstone from the pulpit. Rather, he said, “They can have quieter qualities that bring people in and hold them by the power of the message.”
To be on Rainer’s breakout list, a church had to meet his criteria, including having a longstanding leader who brought new people to the pews then confronted a time when membership dropped.
That leader, a sort of CEO, also had to decide to reposition the church to meet its community’s needs better, then follow through, directing changes, building leadership, reaching nonchurchgoers, building attendance and energizing lives.
Visits to Grace and talks with its leaders and members showed how the features Rainer focuses on have helped a big suburban church grow and sustain its congregation.
On a recent Sunday, Jonathan Schaeffer, the church’s senior pastor, wrapped up announcements with a quote from the Bible and a humble prayer, then handed off this second of three services to his dad.
Donald Schaeffer, a 50-year minister, faced the vast, airy sanctuary’s 850 worshippers, took a deep breath and launched his sermon about how to make Christianity a daily part of family life.
He knew the stage as well as his own living room. He could stride across it like a televangelist if he chose (he did not).
A wireless mic and state-of-the-art sound system carried his voice to every corner of the room. Two women fluent in American Sign Language alternately translated for hearing-impaired worshippers.
Soaring video screens beamed live images of the elder Schaeffer, now 75, toward 1,344 padded, theater-style seats. No hard, stark pews lined up under this pillarless expanse.
From a control booth, Philip Walden projected calming green light onto walls behind the preacher. Later, as the emotional state mounted, the light segued into a fiery red.
Fancy features, flair and endless meeting rooms fill the modern church, which is affiliated with the Christian and Missionary Alliance. Attendance and membership have risen briskly since 1990.
Landscaped parking lots fill for services; the interior buzzes all week with classes, meetings and other activities; remaining debt on the 9-year-old facility declines each month. It seems like a church in good health.
Despite Grace’s comfortable features, its pastors and Rainer agree that it’s not technological gewgaws, live bands, sound finances or the Schaeffers’ stage presence that rocketed it into the top tier of evangelical Christian churches.
It’s been a mix of qualities, values, messages and attitudes that Don Schaeffer and other church leaders began instilling 15 to 20 years ago. Jonathan Schaeffer, 40, brought the same commitment and a younger man’s energy when he succeeded his father in 1998.
The Schaeffers’ assessment is that theirs is “meat-and-potatoes ministry.” That seems to work. Membership tops 800, but Sunday attendance regularly exceeds 2,100 for the three services.
A 12-week orientation class called In Touch Fellowship fills with newcomers. Some 60 small groups meet for Bible studies, divorce support, financial management, parenting, teen activities and a singles group. If it’s meat and potatoes, side dishes come with the meal, too.
Don Schaeffer became senior pastor in 1962 after seven years as a Lutheran minister.
Lutherans were fine, “but I wanted something more Bible-based and based on the teachings of Jesus,” he said. “Mainline Protestants and Catholics were based more on sacramental matters.”
His notion was that people invite Christianity into their lives based on need and what they learn from the Bible. His was an evangelical model, and the Colorado Springs-based Christian and Missionary Alliance denomination fit the bill.
Before he arrived, Grace Church had fewer than 50 members and a part-time lay pastor. It grew tenfold under his leadership. But in the 1980s, membership slowly dropped 20 percent.
Rainer, who borrowed analytical methods from business writer Jim Collins (whose 2001 book “Good to Great,” about corporate leadership, was a best-seller), considered Grace and others on his list to have been “good and successful churches” before their breakout years.
But Rainer also said it’s never enough to be merely good if a church can be great.
Don Schaeffer confessed that years of slow decline discouraged him. He had a small staff. The church still seemed full. “I thought I had more than I could do,” he said.
Schaeffer and three colleagues attended a conference in the late ’80s. The message _ if you’re not growing, you’re not doing God’s work _ jolted them.
“We saw there were more people who needed what we do, so many needy people,” he said. The memory of those needy people still seems to sting. “Every year a school kid would commit suicide,” he said. “People were suffering. Families broke up. People took tranquilizers. I felt guilty about what was going on, that we should be reaching these people.”
That meant, for one thing, moving from a nearby three-acre site with limited parking and scant meeting space to larger quarters. Hence the sprawling campus.
As he approached 65, Don realized he had to find a successor. Jonathan sought the job and won it, leaving a church near New York. His father became an associate pastor and still handles some classes, occasional sermons and other duties.
Activities draw many to Grace. An unexpected one is Link, a Christian singles group that meets every other Tuesday with as many as 60 people.
Sunday and weekday youth services provide more activities. Some 140 adolescents packed a noisy Sunday gathering, planning golf matches, nights at the baseball park and white-water rafting outings. Religious music videos alternated with a live Christian rock band. As many as 200 come to youth services Wednesday nights.
“We take the word out and share it with people,” Jonathan Schaeffer said. “Not sheep-stealing,” luring members of other churches, “but reaching those who aren’t in a church. We say, `Every member a minister.’ ”
The younger Schaeffer stressed Grace’s inclusiveness. Still, the congregation is overwhelmingly white. Jonathan said the church seeks more minorities but has been thwarted by the racial homogeneity of southwest suburbs.
“We’re welcome to everyone,” he said, including divorced and gay people. “We invite them in. The Scriptures say homosexual acts are out of bounds, but we’re all at a different stage. We don’t push anybody away.”
Was that a breath of liberal theology? Certainly not, the pastors said. They call themselves evangelicals who emphasize reaching out with conservative Christian values to those whom they consider not “saved.” But it’s not quite fire and brimstone either.
For instance, “there are churches that say abortion is OK, others that rail against it,” Jonathan said, focusing on the grief abortion might cause. “We look for the path to healing. There are things we consider right and wrong, but let’s not be the cosmic police.”
KRE/JL END BENTAYOU
Editors: Check the RNS photo Web site at https://religionnews.com for photos to accompany this story. Search by slug. Thom in first graf is CQ.
